


How We Were Transfigured

by icepixie



Series: Closet Idealism [3]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: AU, F/M, Original Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-06
Updated: 2010-06-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:50:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icepixie/pseuds/icepixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sharp edge of memory begins to dull.  Closet Idealism 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How We Were Transfigured

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in my Closet Idealism AU, several weeks after [The Little Dreams We Dream...](http://archiveofourown.org/works/16511)

Near the end of their working lunch—the first time they'd managed to see each other outside of joint staff meetings in over a month—Susan took pity on her former CO.

"About six weeks ago."

Sheridan had the grace to look chagrined. "Was I that obvious?"

She stifled a laugh. "You could've had a blinking neon sign over your head and been less obvious."

He harrumphed. "All right, I was curious. It didn't exactly seem like something I could ask Michael at a weekly briefing."

She tried to imagine that conversation. It didn't end prettily.

Growing more serious, Sheridan said, "I am happy for you, you know. Both of you. I know things were...difficult during the war with Earth."

She looked down at the table, knowing all too well to what he was referring. A lot of things had been "difficult" during the war, and she wasn't sure when or if the memories would ever become less painful. Experience told her that some never lost their sharp edge.

They each had to get back to their respective offices, but agreed to meet for dinner, along with Delenn and Michael, one night in the next week to catch up. Friendship, they had found over the past two and a half years, was precious, and they weren't going to let even the management of the galaxy send them drifting apart.

*

Commander McCreary came by her office near the end of the shift to give her the report on fuel consumption she had asked for. Susan stiffened when the other woman came into the room, as she always did in McCreary's presence. She took the data pad she was handed without a word.

"Will that be all, Captain?" her first officer asked.

She would never be able to look at McCreary and not remember that she had fought on the other side. It was as integral to her perception of the woman as her red hair and her near-preternatural skill at cards. They might work easily together, or laugh and make small talk at diplomatic functions, but Susan would never forget.

But she could, she realized, someday forgive her for the choice she'd made.

"That's all, Commander." Just before the other woman turned to leave, she said, "Have—have a good evening."

McCreary paused and gave her a small and, Susan knew, rare smile. She nodded. "You too, Captain." Her back straight and shoulders squared, she left the room.

Susan held the data pad and breathed out slowly. The sharp edge dulled just a bit. Her heart began to ease.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from an Eavan Boland poem of the same name, from her collection _Against Love Poetry_ (2001). (A year later, my thesis has finally fully infested my liiiiiiiiife.)


End file.
